Metamorphosis
by sisterwind
Summary: I think it’s a metamorphosis if what you’re becoming is preferable to what you are." Leah Clearwater, through heartbreak and newfound hope.
1. Chapter 1

The last time she remembers everything being perfectly normal with Sam is when they're eating dinner together at a restaurant. They share a pizza, asking for sausage and olives just the way she likes it, and then they watch some unremarkable romantic comedy that he, despite the persona he projects, secretly adores. It's one of the many things that she loves about him, that he believes in love and that she doesn't have to drag him to see these films that are optimistic and hopeful.

Strangely, she doesn't adore them the way some girls do, swooning after the men on their television screens. She already has her fairytale.

They hold hands as they walk to the car. People would think that, after several years of dating, they would grow tired of these displays of affection, but they do not. If anything, Leah thinks that Sam holds her hand as though it is precious, as though he has never done so before.

She kisses him when he drops her off at her home. It is long, lingering, sweet. She remembers the feel of it in days, and years, to come.

-

The hours turn into days, and Leah has called everyone she can think to call to find where he is.

She can hardly sleep, and when she does, she tosses and turns. She wonders if this is some escape attempt, trying to be free of the Quileute culture, but she can't see that ever being the case. Sam adores the tribe and besides, he would have told her. He loves her.

When he returns, he is _different_, in some quintessential way that she cannot pinpoint. It is in the way he moves, in the way he looks at her. There is sadness in his eyes that she has never seen before, she notices. She wonders what has happened to him, but thinks that he will confide in her in his own time. He crops his hair short, as if he is trying to hide something, or forget about it.

He hardly calls her over the next few days, and, pained, she finally confronts him. If it was anyone else, she would think that she was being played for a fool – but it's _Sam_, so that clearly is not the case.

"What's going on?" she says, trying her hardest to keep her voice supportive rather than accusatory, though in truth she is feeling equal parts of both emotions. She knows that he wouldn't be so distraught over a miniscule matter, and she wants him to confide in her, but the whole affair also makes her terribly indignant. She has been dating him for years; he should be able to tell her anything. It makes her wonder, against her will, if there are other secrets that he's been hiding.

He looks at her, his face contorted in conflict. "I can't tell you, Leah," he says finally. She wonders if it is her imagination, or if his voice has noticeably become lower, and the arms his shirt reveals seem much more muscular. "Please, just don't ask me. We can work through this, I promise."

"Okay," she agrees, because there is nothing else that she can say. She takes his hand, noticing the terrible heat. "Fever?" she asks.

"What? Oh, yeah," he says distractedly. He grips her hand in return, holding it too tightly, anchoring her, as if afraid she will float away.

-

In the end, it's too much for her to handle – the lying and the secrecy and the excuses. She _knows_ he's with another girl, but that's not the worst of it. The Sam she loves would have the courage to tell her that he is seeing someone else and doesn't want to be with her anymore.

She lets it go on for months, hoping that, by some divine miracle, things will improve – or rather, return to the way they once were, so magical and uncomplicated and lovely. She knows that it's illogical, but she has always believed in the otherworldly.

Still, it's the time when he comes to her with his jeans put on backwards and his hair a mess that she cannot take the rampant humiliation anymore. Rage overtakes sadness as she wonders if it gives him some kind of _pleasure_ to hurt her.

He sees her assessing gaze, and her uncontrollable rage. He holds up both hands, as if to stop her from hurting him. "It's not what you think," he begins. She almost laughs in pure bitterness. How much of an idiot does he think she is?

She picks up a picture frame – not caring about the photograph inside – and flings it at him. He ducks, but it still grazes his cheek, leaving an ugly cut before it clatters against the wall. She sees blood, and feels a vindictive pleasure.

She searches around for something else to throw. She seizes the nearest book on the table, but his reflexes are slightly quicker this time. He dodges it completely.

"Fuck you, Sam," she tells him. For some reason, it almost gives her relief, just to be done with it once and for all. She feels light, all of the anger draining out of her, replaced by hurt, yes – but she can clearly see that in the future it will lead to acceptance.

She can see that he wants to argue, but some other emotion overtakes him then that she cannot identify. He practically bolts out the door, and she slams it after him, locking it.


	2. Chapter 2

For the next few weeks, she hardly sees him at all; she realizes that he is trying to avoid her. Her friends are supportive and agree with her, thinking that she made the right decision. Most of the time, she thinks so, too, even though it hurts her like nothing has ever hurt her before.

There's just those select moments when she catches a glimpse of Sam's face, and sees the startlingly real, devastating heartbreak there. Leah wants to believe, in those seconds when she sees his expression, that it is all because of her, before she reminds herself that she doesn't give a fuck what he feels. It's hard to remember, sometimes.

Finally, a month passes and she has eaten her share of ice cream and chocolate in private, and her friends have deemed her completely recovered. She thinks that that might be slightly hasty, but she is certainly on the right track.

She hears a knock at the door, and after the third knock, remembers that she is home alone and, sighing, gets up to answer it. She opens it to see Sam standing there, looking more handsome and more muscular than she has ever seen him, somehow – or perhaps that's just the effect of time spent apart.

"What are you doing here?" she asks. She thinks, belatedly, that it would have been more in keeping with her prior ultimatum to slam the door in her face, but the curiosity she feels is too strong.

He looks earnestly at her. "To just…explain to you, as best I can. I think I owe you that."

Again, curiosity tempts her to allow him to keep talking, but this time her common sense triumphs. "Really, I think it would be better if you didn't," she says curtly. "All you owe me is to leave me alone." She knows that it's harsh, but she wants to deliver her point clearly. She has never prized herself on tact.

His voice is low, anguished. "Please, I know I don't deserve a second chance – at all. But…if you listen to me, I think you'll understand." He bites his lip. "And even if you don't – you'll at least know all the facts."

That fleeting, temporary bit of common sense she felt just a few seconds ago eludes her now, as she sighs and moves aside to let him in. For a split-second, he looks panicked, but then takes a deep breath and follows her. "The house won't suffocate you," she says dryly.

He gives a nervous laugh, then begins. "I can't tell you outright," he states. She rolls her eyes.

"If this is _honestly_ the best you can do," she says. Her tone is detached, but there is palpable pain beneath the surface. She truly _wants_ him to give her a good reason to take him back – and she hates herself for wishing it.

"On our first date," he says urgently. "You know, it was during the winter break-"

"I _remember_ our first date," she says defensively, then her cheeks color as she realizes the connotations. "Somewhat," she adds. All the hidden emotions begin to quickly resurface at the reminder of their past romance, all of the things she has worked to forget. She tries to suppress the upwelling, but she is unable to do so.

He almost smiles. "Do you remember what I told you then?"

Leah remembers many things about that first date: his minty breath as he kissed her after the movie, the way his lips moved on hers, the way he pulled her to him. She remembers eating dinner before the movie, and worrying that there was spinach in her teeth. She remembers the sex scenes, when she was even more aware than she would normally be of Sam sitting inches away. But she does remember his words, perhaps the most clearly. "I'll always tell you the truth," he had said. It was in response to something in the movie – some misunderstanding between the two main characters, probably – but the intensity of the words always struck her.

"I won't lie to you, Leah," he says. "But I _can't_ tell you, as much as I want too – it's just impossible. But I don't want to spend my life without you – and there are little things I can tell you. We can figure out how to do it."

She nods. "We can work through this," she whispers, believing it.

He breaks into a smile, real and genuine and lovely. She crosses the distance between them and kisses him, hard, fiercely. She has missed the taste of him.

It isn't the same as before; there is urgency and the already strong desire is magnified, the instincts more animalistic, caused by time spent apart. His hand slides up her shirt, working its way to her breast. She lets him touch her, because she has been yearning for this for the past month.

"Where can we go?" he whispers roughly into her ear.

"No one's home," she replies, gripping him too tightly. She will never let him go, not again. She thinks her fingers might be digging in too hard, but she doesn't care, and neither does he. She kisses him, exploring the contours of his mouth. It has been far too long since she has last had this experience.

They work their way over to the sofa. She lets herself pull away so that her fingertips only cling to hers, and she settles herself on it, giving him a burning smile.

He accepts her invitation, pulling off his clothes while she carefully removes her shirt, breaking their contact for an instant before reconnecting. He moves toward her, and she can feel his hard stomach muscles. She wraps one arm around him and feels his chest with another, again marveling at the muscles there. He works with his hands behind her back to unfasten her bra; she feels it fall off as the kiss becomes slightly more triumphant.

With that article of clothing removed, he moves down to carefully slip her out of her jeans. He plays with the lace adorning her panties before he pulls those down, too. He kisses the hair there, and for the thousandth time she thinks about how much she has missed this – but also how much she is looking forward to their future that she is determined they will have.

She can feel his hard cock, but can also see the determination in his eyes to make up for those months of confusion, where she wondered whether he was with someone else. He wants to prove to her that she is all that he wants, she realizes.

His fingers move tantalizingly, working wonders, and she moans loudly. He stays there for what could be seconds or years, watching her want him, before finally, unable to hold back any longer, he pulls a condom out of his pocket – she wonders if he knew that this meeting would end this way, or only hoped fervently that it would, just as she did – and pulls it on before he enters her.

It is smooth; the separation of one month has not made them rusty. She raises herself to meet him, and he thrusts, and then again and again; she is brought to orgasm as he continues to do so, feeling that uncontrollable tossing of emotion and pleasure that bursts into existence, that makes her feel afloat and loved and beautiful.

-

One month later, it is different, now, but Leah doesn't think that it's necessarily better or worse. Sam tells her as much as he can, now, and at least she understands – but there are days when she longs for the simplicity they used to have, without the secrets. Nevertheless, she thinks, the sex has improved drastically. That's one thing to be thankful for.

Every day, he makes it a point to tell her that he loves her. He says it so truthfully that it touches her, every time, and she thinks that even with his secrets that somehow they will find a way to make it all succeed, just through the sheer strength of their love for each other.

She has gleaned several things from him: that he doesn't age, exactly, and that he is something more than human. She has learned that he is dangerous when he is angry, though he is getting more talented at controlling himself. Whenever he tries to tell her more, he stops himself – it as if his throat literally constricts. He says that he will find a way, however, and Leah believes him.

It is the day that Emily comes to visit – and also the day before Sam's graduation from high school – that everything changes. He had told her he was going to stay here in La Push, and that he would be here for support during her senior year. He had flashed her a charming smile when he said 'support,' and she had understood his line of thinking.

Emily pulls up in front of Leah's house in her new car, excited to show it off. Sam is waiting in the kitchen, as Leah opens the door. "Sam's here," she whispers to Emily, who giggles.

"So, you patched things up, then? I always knew you would," she says back, also in a low voice.

Leah nods, and Sam comes into view, a smile on his face that suddenly turns to bewilderment and then raging, unquenchable desire.

She watches it all occur in slow motion as Sam strides across the room to Emily and gives her that intense, burning look that used to belong solely to Leah. Emily, to her credit, looks puzzled as she backs away; Leah shoots her a look that tells her to leave, _now_. She does so; memories of Leah's temper as a child are enough to make Emily still a little bit afraid of her.

"What's happened, Sam?" she asks dully, though in her heart she already knows. She knows that Sam has always been faithful to her before – despite what she once believed to the contrary – but she can sense from the look on his face that he cannot hold true to that any longer. Even though he may not physically betray her, his thoughts are certainly no longer with her. It's more than just finding Emily attractive, Leah can see. It's something almost like love, and she can't quite understand it, but she knows it's there.

He gives her a look filled to the brim with anguish. His eyes follow Emily as she moves toward her car. "Leah, I'm so sorry," he murmurs, taking an involuntary step toward the door.

"Please," she says, "just stay." There is still just enough hope in her that makes her believe this is just some onset of illness – something that can be cured.

They lasted over two years, she wants to shout at him. They lasted over two years when all of their other friends were having hook-ups and later, one-night stands. Isn't there some loyalty there, at all?

He watches Emily pull out of the driveway, and only once she is out of sight does he give his full attention to Leah. His vision clears slightly, and he blinks. She has the irrational belief that maybe things will return to the way they are supposed to be.

"Kiss me," she pleads.

He looks uncertain, and she hates that, but after a moment's hesitation, he leans in and meets her lips with his. His arms move as if they want to circle around her, before, after just a second, he jumps back as if burned.

"What?"

"It's _wrong_," he mutters.

This is too much for her; she can accept that some male instinct is making him want to fuck her second cousin and former best friend; she _cannot_ believe that what they have is anything but right. She wants to shout at him again, to throw things, in some strange repeating of history. It is the same thing, isn't it? Because of his secrets, they cannot be together.

But it isn't the same, because this is permanent. They cannot work around this, and it is something she cannot forgive him for, once he inevitably acts on his instincts. Leah backs away, fighting her every cell in her body that tells her to fling things at him, tell him that he's a fucking bastard and never meant anything to her in the first place. It isn't that she doesn't want to arouse his anger, for although she is aware of the danger, it doesn't seem real to her in the way that this separation is real. She just doesn't want to look at him a moment longer.

This isn't like last time, she thinks as she walks up the stairs, not daring to glance at him, because there is no going back.


	3. Chapter 3

She tells her friends that she _absolutely_ does not want to hear about Sam and Emily, right after Dana, who has always been slightly clueless, gushes about how he sends her magnificent bouquets of flowers and chocolates. This particularly bothers Leah; Sam was never the kind of person who sent flowers. Leah almost feels proud, although she knows it is a trivial issue; Sam never needed to _prove_ his love to her. It simply _was_.

Leah has always wanted to be a writer, but she finds that too difficult under the present circumstances. All she thinks she can write about is heartbreak, and that will only remind her of her own.

Still, she cannot escape the talk, nor the looks of pity. Leah would like to stay inside her house, but as she knows it is impossible, she endures the looks and the murmured comments that she occasionally hears.

Leah hears that Sam is relentless, yet always the gentleman. She hears that sometimes, Emily will give him that sideways, shy smile that she has. It makes Leah want to vomit, or to maybe light something on fire.

She recalls how their romance started; how she was the one who initiated it. They had known each other since they were kids, but her freshman – and his sophomore – year of high school, she had developed a raging, irrepressible crush on him. One day, when she had collected her courage, she had waited for him after one of his classes and asked him if he'd like to go out with her. She can still remember – painfully vividly – how his slow smile came across his face. "What took you so long?" he had said.

Most of all, she avoids Sam and he avoids her. Like before, it is impossible to completely ignore him since she cannot help but see him occasionally, but he always ducks his head and doesn't meet her gaze.

Then comes the day when she hears that Emily finally accepts him. Leah runs to her room, snatching her photograph albums and rip out any pictures of Emily or Sam. She even removes the photographs of herself and Sam, with their faces glowing like they were the happiest couple in the world. She lights a fire in the fireplace hastily, so quickly and carelessly that she burns herself, but she doesn't care. She takes the photographs and tosses them all in, watching them shrivel.

She is happy at this moment that nobody in her family is here to witness this and believe that she is brooding too much or possibly insane. She hates that there is no one in her family who might actually take her side – she still cannot completely forgive her mother for tentatively pointing out that Sam was just following his heart, and then being shocked when Leah bitterly pointed out that it was more like his cock. Her father went to seek out Sam to tell him there were no hard feelings – an entirely inappropriate gesture, in Leah's opinion.

Seth was possibly the worst; his hero-worship of Sam used to be adorable in Leah's eyes, but couldn't he see that once _she_ broke up with Sam, his idolization of Sam should also perish?

She watches those photographs, the preserved memories of a distant happiness, crumble to ash. She turns her back on them and lets them burn, never glancing back.

-

The news is all over town that Emily was in an accident and that her face is scarred. Leah cannot decide how she feels.

The predominant emotion – and the good, beautiful part of her that Sam used to love hates her for feeling this way – believes that this is _fitting_; that Emily is being punished for her treachery. Leah does not believe in many of the dating morals that other girls cling to – that you should not date your friend's crush, for instance, or your friend's older brother. She cannot see the sense in those rules; however, she thinks that is a far cry away from dating your second cousin – and good friend's – long-term boyfriend.

She wonders if Emily knows about Sam's secret. She sometimes hopes that she doesn't; then there's still hope that she might prove to be less supportive than Leah knows she would have been and decide that she cannot handle it. But something about the way Emily looks at Sam tells Leah that Emily knows _exactly_ what Sam is – and she, Leah, does not. It physically pains her, this image of them quietly discussing all the things that he never told her. Leah knows that Sam follows soccer religiously, and then when he was seven years old he wanted to become a professional and play for Manchester United; she knows that he never gets nervous before tests and that he likes the color blue better than green. She knows all of the infinitesimal details about him, but the major things she is practically clueless about.

She hears about their engagement shortly after. By now, the angry part of her has fled, leaving bitterness and unwilling acceptance in its wake. Leah thinks that it would have been better if he had never come back at all; if he had just stayed away. She was on the road to accepting their separation with grace; now it is messy and jagged and she cannot stop herself from hurting so desperately.

Because, despite everything, she knows that in all likelihood she would take Sam back. The rational, logical part of her reminds her that she wouldn't, not in actuality – she would still blame him, and there would be guilt and accusations that would undermine their relationship forever. But the love she still has for him – that she curses every day, for making her hurt like this – would demand that she kiss him back, make love to him, if only he wanted to.

For a moment, the sympathetic, less bitter side of her wonders if this is how Sam feels about Emily; she suppresses the thought before she really considers it.

Sam comes to her house again the day after she hears about the engagement. He does not look hopeful, or even nervous. He just looks sad, from what Leah can see from the window upstairs. She considers not answering, but Seth opens the door before she can shout at him not to. He attempts to give Sam a manly clap on the back; it makes Sam smile. Just a few months ago, it would have made Leah laugh. Instead it makes her want to have a serious talk with her brother about what appropriate post-breakup behavior from siblings looks like, and that his performance is _not_ remotely what it is supposed to be.

Still, she cannot ignore Sam now, after Seth points his finger at her room. She quickly closes the door, hoping that, at the very least, she can look cool and collected and as if she doesn't need him.

Sam knocks on her door. She waits several beats before she opens it.

"Oh, Sam, hello," she says, with false surprise that couldn't fool even terribly gullible Dana. "I didn't know you were coming." She purposely makes it sound passive-aggressive, hoping that he will take the hint.

She can see that it registers, by his quick wince, but he looks resolute. She knows him all too well, and because of that realizes that whatever he wants to say, he will say. Giving a plaintive sigh, she gestures for him to say what he needs to say, and then swiftly leave.

He bites his lip in that endearing gesture he has whenever he is uncertain of how to phrase something – one of the many things she has always known about him, known before Emily ever entered the picture. "Emily wants you to be her bridesmaid," he says, deciding that perhaps bluntness is the best method of disclosing this particularly shocking bit of information. Leah gapes, forgetting for an instant that she _hates_ Sam and Emily. She sits down on her bed.

"Why?"

Sam looks intensely uncomfortable. He shifts his weight from foot to foot. "She misses you. You were one of her best friends." Leah is grateful that he uses the past tense, grateful that he still has not broken his decree not to lie to her.

Leah gives him a long look. "I also fucked the groom," she points out, just to be argumentative and provoke a reaction – rattle this calm demeanor, just a little, just to show that she still has some sort of sway over him. "Repeatedly."

He blinks once, but otherwise brushes the comment away, much to her annoyance. "Well. She wants you to forgive her, Leah." He hesitates. "Please?"

"How in the _fuck_ can she expect me to forgive her?" Leah snaps. "Is she _trying_ to punish me, or just being a fucking idiot?"

Sam shakes his head, almost as a reflex. "It wasn't her that hurt you." Leah intensely hates him, in that moment, for defending Emily to her. She wants to be able to blame Emily, _needs_ to.

Leah stares at him. "I'll be her bridesmaid if you kiss me," she says flatly.

For a moment, their eyes meet, and Leah can almost convince herself that she is in her freshman year again and he is meeting her eye from across the parking lot, looking mysterious and unattainable – but then, she always liked a challenge. Then she blinks, and the moment is gone. He considers, and then nods.

He strides over to her easily, but once he gets within inches of her, it seems like he has to force himself to go further. Leah wonders why she tortures herself like this, and then his lips brush hers and she knows why.

It's just a peck, hardly a kiss at all. He pulls away quickly, but she can still feel the softness of his lips. She runs her tongue over her own wonderingly before remembering where she is.

"Still wrong?" she asks.

He nods, looking unhappy. "Leah, I just…" he says quietly. She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't.

"I miss you," he whispers gruffly.

She closes her eyes. They are words she simultaneously wants and hates to hear; they will only cause her pain in the long run, but in that moment, hearing the way his lips move over them, they only bring her happiness.

"I will _always_ love you," he says, his voice intense. "_Always_." It is a promise that will do neither of them any good. "With Emily, though – I don't have a choice. But it's you that I love." She can tell the words are true, but she doesn't know why he is saying them. He seems to think that this will make her feel better. Or perhaps he is trying to make himself feel less guilty, she doesn't know.

"Leave her," Leah says harshly, even though she knows that he won't. That, according to him, he can't.

He sighs. "Please don't ask that of me."

He takes a seat next to her on the bed, and takes her hand. She can tell that this, too, does not feel right to him, but he fights it and holds on anyway. She can't stop a tear from rolling down her cheek as she sits beside him. He lifts his thumb to brush it away instinctively; his finger burns her face, and the way his touch makes her feel only causes more tears to fall.

"Someday, I hope you'll forgive me," he says, kissing the top of her head.

She raises her eyes to look at him. "Never," she says. It is almost a hiss.

He nods. "I understand. I can't forgive myself, either."

-

Leah knows that Sam is developing a gang. She sees Paul and Jared and the others beginning to become reclusive, following practically the same behavior pattern that Sam exhibited previously, and then becoming Sam's most loyal disciples. She wants to send a condolence card to any girlfriends that they might have – but that might give the impression that she still cares about Sam, which _clearly_ isn't the case.

She watches the group grow, and, when she is caught off-guard, she sometimes finds herself wondering about their dynamics. Is Sam their leader? Is it easier for him, with other people like him, whatever they are? Leah remembers how lonely he told her he would feel, like there was no one in the world for him, and how she would sometimes wish that she, too, could become one of his kind so that she could be there for him in his supernatural world as well as his human one. Now she is hardly present in either one.

She hears that he punished a drug dealer. For some reason, this makes her sad and angry simultaneously – maybe because he can fight for other peoples' happiness but not for hers, the girl that he supposedly loves.

Emily calls her once, to thank her for becoming a bridesmaid, and that while there isn't likely to be a wedding in the near future, based on the uncertainty of Sam's lifestyle, she appreciates Leah's forgiveness. It is possibly the most awkward – and one-sided – conversation of Leah's life as she gives one or two word answers to Emily's questions, restraining herself from lashing out like she wants to, reminding herself of all the reasons why she can bear this, she _can _– it's just one night, and after that she will never see either of them again. Emily doesn't call back again, though Leah assumes that she is still considered to be a bridesmaid.

Leah applies to colleges far, far away from La Push. She wants to escape this environment as quickly as she can, and leave Sam behind once and for all.


	4. Chapter 4

It starts with a fever. Leah calls in sick to work and rests in her bed, listening to music on the radio as she drifts in and out of sleep. She vaguely remembers her mother coming in to the room and handing her a thermometer, and after it is removed from her mouth, worried exchanges between her mother and father. She hears something about Seth getting the fever too.

She thinks she hears Sam's voice, but that could just as easily be her imagination as it could be reality.

She wakes up, and she sees familiar faces around her. Her mother and father look down at her, pleased that she is awaking; Harry immediately places his hand on her forehead. Puzzled, he takes his hand away, seeing it coated lightly with sweat.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks her gently, as though she is a little girl. Normally, this would make Leah feel loved, but this time it triggers anger – uncontrollable anger. She feels herself begin to _change,_ somehow – and suddenly the fever, all of it, makes sense as she connects it with Sam and the heat she felt on him back when her whole world changed dramatically. "Go!" she shouts at her parents, who look bewildered. Seth hurries into the room, apparently recovered as well – and then she understands that he, too, is a part of this.

Everything immediately becomes more acute, but also utterly confusing. Leah feels her known world slide away, water running through her fingers, and she cannot bring it back. It doesn't hurt, but it's thoroughly strange, and she doesn't like it. She sees the world differently, through different eyes. She looks to her side and sees that Seth has changed as well, into a gigantic wolf. All of the Quileute legends of werewolves rush to her in that instant – just as they rush to Seth. She feels some of his thoughts rush into her – general confusion, tempered with his good-natured personality. Puzzled, she tries to understand why that is, but then more important matters overtake her.

She glances at her parents, and sees her father convulse; with a spasm of worry, she feels herself change back to herself. It unnerves her, but she shakes that off as she runs to her father. She sees that Seth has followed her lead. Her mother has a phone in her hand and is presumably dialing 911.

Leah _wants_ to reassure them, somehow, but she can't. Instead, she turns to Seth, and is surprised to see sadness there. "We'll be all right," she tells him, although she hardly knows that.

"It's not that," he says quietly. "I just…I never knew you had that much bitterness in you."

Leah doesn't know what to say to that, so she doesn't respond at all.

-

Sam finds her in the hospital, just as she knew, somehow, that he would. She sits on a chair, and he slides in next to her.

"How's your dad?" he asks, although she's pretty sure that he must already know.

"Not so well," she says. "He saw…some things."

"Do you understand now?" he asks. She nods.

"I never wanted you to go through that," he says finally, after several beats of silence. "The transformation – all the confusion that comes with it. It was terrible, for me."

"I know."

Sam's eyes slip to her hands, as if he wants to take them to comfort her. Leah both aches for that and fears it at the same time, but she lets her desire take over. She reaches over and grips Sam's hand in hers, and he doesn't physically cringe from the contact.

"Imprinting," she says, remembering the name from one of the old legends she used to adore as a child.

He nods. "Yes." He hesitates. "I tried to tell you – but there are so many legends that we believe in, and…we never watched many horror movies, at least not memorable ones, and anyway, I'm not sure if I even could have done that-"

"I know." She casts about for something to say; this conversation suddenly became uncomfortable once they began to discuss their history and the impact being a werewolf had on their relationship. "So I can't tell anyone?"

This seems to make him relieved as well. "Not _tell_, though you can hint at it, the way I did with you." Even though he seems as though he dreads discussing their relationship as much as she does, he appears to be terrible at keeping the conversation away from it, Leah muses.

"There's one thing you should know," Sam says, his tone uncomfortable. "We can, um…read each other's thoughts. When we're wolves, not as people," he adds as she instinctively pushes her chair away from him in alarm. "Didn't you notice that, with Seth?"

Leah remembers that feeling she had of being able to tell what her brother was thinking. "Yeah." A horrible feeling overtakes her, perhaps even worse than the initial shock of transformation – a feeling of squirming insides, and fear springing to the surface of no longer being able to hide behind her façade of nonchalance. "So you mean…"

His gaze is sad. "Yes, I think so."

The doctor comes out of the room, sparing her from creating a response. "We did everything we could," he says.

It's strange, Leah thinks, as she tries to make herself cry but can't. Perhaps she already accepted that this would happen, by that sinking feeling in her stomach as she drove all the way here. Perhaps she already spent all of her tears on Sam, and has none left for other occasions.

Instead, she just looks to the sterilized white walls around her and wonders how all of this could h be happening.

-

She _learns_ things, about Sam and the others. She learns things that Emily will never know, and this gives her some remote, painful happiness. She learns that Sam was the one who destroyed Emily's face, but rather than rejoice in karma having its way, she can only feel Sam's pain.

She wants to be able to experience some kind of maddening glee that makes her own situation better, and although she can have vestiges of that as a human, as a wolf she lives Sam's emotions.

-

She transforms before the funeral, running about that night. She senses someone else, and she knows who it is.

His thoughts are a jumble of apologies and explanations, once he realizes that it's her. She doesn't want to hear them, and then she realizes he can hear that thought. She tries to focus on something inconsequential, but his mere _presence_ makes it impossible.

_There's nothing I can do,_ he thinks grimly.

She doesn't know what to say to that – and then she remembers she doesn't have to.

The confusion is strange, as she shifts, but it is getting better now that she has done it more often. She still has moments of disorientation, and she thinks that if they went on for just a few seconds longer she might go mad from them. It's terrifying, not knowing who she is.

_It gets so that you don't even notice it._

_Good to know._ Being lighthearted is difficult, but she tries her hardest, and also attempts to keep any unpleasant thoughts out of her mind. It doesn't work; the essence of Sam that she can feel, taste, breathe, tantalizes her.

_I just want to fuck you,_ she can't stop herself from thinking. It's a combination of things, really – she has realized that once she becomes a wolf, her desires become less complicated and more animalistic and instinctual, straightforward and bold. But perhaps it's also that feeling of knowing that tomorrow, her father's death will be finalized – there will be no denial, not that Leah has been doing much of that. In this new world of confusion filled with unimaginable subjects and events, she cannot pretend that the corpse of her father that she saw with her own eyes is anything but real.

She can feel him sigh, his thoughts become even more jumbled, but she knows she can catch _Emily_ in there somewhere, and it makes her quiver with rage; it's easier than sorrow. Already strong emotions are intensified, she notices, once she has become a wolf, and she clings to the easier ones.

_Please Leah, don't make this harder than it has to be,_ is his coherent thought, not just stream-of-consciousness ramblings.

She shrugs. _I can't help myself._ She stops running for a moment; a thought slips out, and she hates herself for thinking it, but it is out there for him to interpret. _What do you think about me? Now?_

His answer is immediate. _What I said to you is still true._

The words hurt her so terribly, as she replays the thought over and over in her mind after she has become a human again, but, like iodine on a wound, they are things that she needs to hear, especially tonight, when she feels more alone than ever before.

-

Leah misses her father, and although she tries to hide it, it shows in the smallest things. She is setting the table and accidentally leaves a place setting for him, but her mother and Seth don't want to point it out, so it just sits there, glaring at them. Moving it would draw even more attention to it, so they simply sit there with Harry Clearwater's place setting, with food he will never eat.

Letting her grief become open to the pack is strange and upsetting, as it is something Leah, as an essentially private person, especially lately, would avoid at all costs. However, there is something even more awkward, that makes her reluctance to reveal her thoughts about her father's death trivial in comparison.

It is uncomfortable and bothersome to know that the others understand her thoughts about Sam. Those are private, she wants to tell them, although she knows it isn't her fault. She retaliates by forcing thoughts upon them, to even the score, at least a little.

More than that, she knows that she hurts and burns every day she opens her eyes and remembers that she is alone. She wants the others to feel that pain and realize what it is like for her, or if that is impossible, at least she wants them not to pity her. Their friendship doesn't matter so much as their respect.

Every time she does that, she can almost _feel_ Sam's disappointment. It hurts her, but surprisingly, not as much as it once would have. Her feelings for Sam have changed, she realized. She no longer loves him in that pure, almost innocent way she once did; her entire being still yearns for him, but her mind almost repels him. She has felt the depths of his feelings for Emily, and feeling disgust is easier than admitting to pain.

She thinks that maybe disappointment in the other is the basis for their relationship now.

It is interesting, to see her interactions with the others change. Her relationship with Seth has become more strained, although she cannot entirely blame him – knowing about his sister's sex life is understandably awkward for him, although she has learned certain things about him she would rather not know (learning that he once tried on a bra and thong for a dare is _not_ something that she would like to know about her brother).

Leah has put aside thoughts of college for now. Though she takes care not to think it in front of the pack – although she senses that Sam already knows – she _likes_ having a calling. She likes being part of something bigger than herself with everything else so uncertain, and being a werewolf isn't so much a curse to her as a blessing, in that regard. The only drawback that she can see is making her thoughts completely public to the others.

She thinks it is probably that aspect that causes her to become guarded – and she's not ashamed to say, aggressive – in other respects. She bares her soul every time she is a wolf when Sam is, opening her thoughts for all of them to hear. She doesn't want their pity, or their understanding, so she changes the subject to something painful for them.

And it helps her, so much that it's almost like a drug for her – replace her own pain by inflicting more. It's her fix, her way to deal with the problems she can scarcely bring herself to face, and she is glad to have it.

-

Embry's parentage is her favorite, because in her mind, it's even more uncomfortable than unrequited love. She hears it on his mind once, and never forgets it.

Sam is thinking about going home to Emily. With a repressed twinge of pain, Leah launches into her own attack.

_Who do _you_ think your father is, Embry?_ There is silence all around, and she imagines the others stopping in their tracks.

It is Jacob who answers her, full of disgust. _There are some lows that I thought even _you _wouldn't descend to, Leah – but thanks for proving me wrong_.

There is murmured assent all around her. She could be a victim, as she has been for the past year – wallowing in her own sadness and guilt, but instead she takes on her new role as an attacker with glee.

_Bella Swan – she's probably with the bloodsucker right now, but I'm sure she wouldn't approve._

His swell of pain mixed with anger distracts her from her own. She loves the feeling of being in control of herself and others.

-

Jared imprints. The very word never ceases to make Leah flinch, even as a wolf. The other wolves exploit this whenever an unpleasant topic emerges.

Leah supposes that this specific instance of imprinting is not awful, not really, since Jared never disappointed anybody and broke someone's heart. She makes the mistake of unintentionally thinking it in precisely those words when Sam was there, and felt his pain like a dagger in her chest.

Feeling Sam near her is like the time immediately following sex, for Leah, or perhaps it is simply because she has _had_ sex with Sam and can compare both emotions. She has taken in his essence and seen into his very being; Leah could never formally read his thoughts but she could come remarkably close to guessing quite often.

She feels his love for her and his anguish, his apologies and his love for Emily. His emotions are always much sharper to her, more resonant than the others'. She wonders if, again, this is because she was intimate with Sam once, or because their connection is simply deeper. She would like to believe that they are both true.


	5. Chapter 5

Leah finds herself entangled in Jacob Black's thoughts often, as for some reason they often transform at roughly the same time. He thinks about a human girl that Leah has met several times in passing and thought to be generally unremarkable, though her father is an old friend of Billy Black's.

If she thinks about it hard enough, Leah can see striking parallels from her own situation to Jacob's – Edward and Bella were, as Bella apparently thought of them, 'soul-mates', but her connection with Jacob was deeper and truer. Leah wants to put Jacob out of his misery by telling him that the deeper, truer love will never triumph – the one without a _choice_ will.

She doesn't tell him about the connection that she sees; it's far too personal, and she takes care never to think it at all. She does tell him that Bella will never choose him; she realizes a split-second too late that without rationale, it just seems like another of what he has dubbed 'typical Leah' comments. She knows that it's true; she makes these comments to everyone. Everyone, that is, except Sam.

Still, she thinks, it's a _bit_ unfair – this one she never intended to be a barb, and it irritates her that others are seeing it as such.

For a moment, she thinks about correcting herself, explaining why she said that, and then wonders why she would even bother. Wolves are supposed to be pack animals, she thinks, but she has remarkable difficulty in forging a bond with her own pack.

Except Sam, she reminds herself. For an instant, she sees them – two wolves, off in the wild, creating their own pack. Howling at the moon and raising puppies, teaching them to hunt, silhouetted against a mountainous backdrop.

It's a beautiful picture.

-

The vampire threat becomes startlingly real, causing them to, ironically, make a pact with other vampires.

Leah lingers in her wolf form, telling Sam that she needs to talk. The others, while she can sense their curiosity, leave them be.

She can tell that he is wary. She would be, too, if she were him. _Are you sure that you can trust them?_ she asks. It is one of the things they share; she knows he resents the vampires for inducing transformation, causing him to be split apart from her. She despises them for the same reason.

_I think so,_ he says guardedly. He hasn't been open with her in so long, it is like a physical hurt.

_I miss you,_ she whines at him.

She feels him right beside her, sees his enormous body approach her. He nuzzles her, and it brings her such an absurd, happy pleasure that she is grinning. Things are much simpler, as a wolf. There are things that make her happy and things that make her unhappy. She knows that there is still a niggling feeling of discomfort, which he described to her as feeling _wrong_ in what seems like decades ago, but he has begun to overcome it. It is easier, as a wolf, he has thought to her.

Similarly, there are basic instincts. The instinct to comfort, that he is displaying now. The instinct to defend. The instinct to kill. The instinct to reproduce.

She regrets thinking it the instant that she does.

He immediately pulls away, and she bounds after him. Her desire for love, for companionship, it is too much. _Please, I love you._

For the first time, when she says those words they don't seem to pain him. He wants to hear them as much as she does, when he's a wolf. His instincts draw her to Emily, but Leah takes pride in that she still has his heart. She moves closer to him, so that their fur touches each other. Again, Leah cannot help thinking of sex, but he doesn't move away this time.

_You don't know what could happen._ He is trying to dissuade her, and she hates to admit he brings up a good point. She could get pregnant, in either her wolf's body or her human one. This wolf pack hasn't been around for some time, and the idea of a female werewolf is relatively new. Leah hates thinking of it that way, though. She doesn't see herself as any different than the others; she thinks it's more sexist to acknowledge her as unique.

_I don't care._ It's mostly true.

He cannot resist her, not now. She is too close, and she knows from his thoughts that she is beautiful and appealing. The only drawback could be the discomfort he might feel, but she believes that it is trivial in comparison to the pleasure they both could receive – pleasure she hasn't felt for almost a year. Has it really been so short a time? It has felt like millennia to her.

They are so close; she playfully nips at him. She invites him, begs him.

And he wants to accept, she can see. But the bonds of imprinting have imprisoned him, leaving him hesitant. Even though she knows the significance of imprinting, his reluctance hurts her pride.

She backs away slightly. Sam makes a move to follow her, then holds himself back.

_I'm sorry._ She wishes she could have one good fuck for every time he has told her that since becoming a werewolf.

_Me too._

-

Things are strained between them after that, at best, although he still defends her honor within the pack. She has made enemies fast, and while it doesn't particularly bother her how the others see her, she hadn't realized she had been so antagonistic. Still, she doesn't think there's much she can do to rectify the situation.

It is Seth who approaches her, the appointed messenger of the other werewolves. "Um, Leah?" he asks, hovering outside her door. It's disconcerting, how much he's grown. She, Leah, has grown as well, become more muscular in her arms and legs and stomach, but not nearly as dramatically as the others.

"What is it?" she asks, genuinely curious. Seth rarely seeks her out to talk anymore; after all, what reason would have to do so? He already can hear all of her thoughts whenever she has transformed and he follows suit.

"We've been thinking – the pack, I mean – well, not Sam, but, he might agree, you never know…"

She decides to give him a hand. He _is_ her brother, after all. Their family has grown steadily apart since her father's death, and although it saddens her, she has learned that closeness and love cannot be forced. "What is it, Seth? What do you want me to stop thinking about?"

Taken by surprise, he begins his stutter all over again. "W-well – a lot of things, really – but most importantly, er, Sam?" It is only around her, and only when he is nervous, that Seth lets his confidence slip; probably a result of her having seen him in diapers and once threatened him, when he attempted to throw toy cars at her, that she didn't care about his age and that she'd throw them right back. Although he isn't scared shitless of her anymore, the way he was when he was a toddler, he still has a certain respect for her, she supposes she would call it.

"I _can't_ stop thinking about Sam," she says automatically. The anger in her is rising – not the kind that will cause her to phase, but the kind that will make her destroy herself and everyone she loves in a single moment.

Sympathy battles with annoyance on his face. "Don't you _know_ how he feels about Emily?" Seth finally says, in exasperation.

The anger is too much to control. She crosses the room and slaps him, hard. He looks at her in disbelief for a moment, before leaving her alone. He doesn't touch his face, but she can see that his skin on that side has become redder.

Her own graduation comes swiftly; she had hardly thought about it with all the events occurring in her life. The one thing she does think about, though, is that Sam had told her that when she graduated, he would plan the _best_ graduation party ever, and they would drink and dance and fuck and be young and happy.

-

After the battle with the vampires, she sits outside her house, her arms curled around her legs. She hears, rather than sees, Sam settling beside her. Becoming a werewolf has caused her, even in her human form, to become more attuned to her other senses.

"What is it?" she asks the wind, not looking at Sam.

"Are you all right?" he asks her, obviously knowing what Jacob said to her. For the first time, she looks at him. He makes a subtle gesture, as if he wants to push away the stray strands of hair falling into her eyes, but he doesn't.

She shrugs. "I guess. Why aren't you with Jacob?" She knows that he has run off to God knows where, and honestly, she thinks that based on the depth of his feelings for Bella Swan, someone needs to save him before he ends up like her.

"Jacob will be fine." The implication is clear: will _she_ be fine? Leah doesn't have an answer for that, so she says nothing. Pointless reassurances will only be revealed to be lies once she transforms.

It's strange, the way she changes around him. With everyone else, she is all rage and energy and madness; with him she is calm and pensive. "I don't know, Sam," she whispers into her hair. More of it falls about her face, shading her off from the world. "I just don't know."

He doesn't either; it's clear that he has no idea what he is supposed to do. Instead, he just sits next to her, not touching, a silent sentinel there for support. Leah doesn't reach for him this time; she just lets him sit there beside her. For about an hour, it looks like the picture of serenity; two figures side by side.

-

Her mother looks through her, not at her. She has taken Harry's place in the council, and Leah thinks that she has mostly recovered from her grief, except around her children. She looks through them.

There is one comment that Sue makes, though, that strikes Leah to the bone. "What are you doing?" she asks brokenly, as Seth hands her a cup of tea. It is clear, though, that she is talking to her daughter rather than her son.

"I don't know?" Leah has no idea what her mother is talking about, and doesn't hesitate to let it be known.

"They all hate you," Sue says. It is the first direct comment that Leah has heard from her all day.

Seth shoots her a warning look; Leah has to resist the urge to phase, closing her eyes to stop herself. "I don't care what they think," she finally says. For the most part, it's true.

Still, that does not explain why she pulls Seth's sleeve and asks him whether or not what Sue said is accurate.

Seth squirms. He doesn't want to answer her, but her hard grip on his sleeve and the determination in her eyes to receive an answer convinces her. "Do you hate me?" she hisses at him.

Her tone prompts him to action. "Yes, fuck it!" It is the first time Leah has heard her brother swear, and she thinks it's somehow monumental. "We all think you're a bitch and I've been defending you to the others because you're my sister – but I'm done with that now, because there's no excuses for you anymore." He hesitates; cruelty does not come so easily to him as it does to others, like Jacob Black. "I don't even _recognize_ you now," he says sadly.

-

That night is the worst for her; she knows that she will not be able to sleep, so she doesn't bother. Instead, she stares into the darkness around her and wonders if Seth's right – if she has changed and if she has, if there's a way to get out of it.

She thinks about the person she used to be – carefree, optimistic, who giggled at the slightest thing and loved people and parties. She compares this to who she is now, and she begins to feel slightly nauseous.

She pads into Seth's room, not bothering to knock. It's late, but she knows that he phased back into human form just a few minutes ago, and must be up. "Seth?"

He doesn't look at her, his attention resolutely fixed on the wall. "Yeah?"

She doesn't like to show vulnerability, but she lets it come out in her voice, if not her expression. "Do you think I can go back to how I used to be?"

He still doesn't meet her eyes, though he is at least looking at her. "I think if you really want to, you could." His tone is doubtful, contradicting the optimism of his words.

She slides her hands through her hair, thinking. "I really want to," she says finally.

It isn't that simple, she can see. She can't apologize and magically make everything better. He still averts his eyes, though his expression has grown less harsh. "Well. Show us, then."

-

She phases, feeling the thoughts of the others gradually stream into her mind. Sam is there, she feels. She experiences firsthand the raging, tempestuous attraction – she will not call it love – for Emily, and immediately the desire to wound the others, quickly, so _she's_ not the vulnerable one, takes over. She feels Embry's presence, and immediately her thoughts start to drift toward his parentage.

It would be so easy, to remain like this indefinitely. To never grow, or change, or do anything. To remain frozen in this particular persona forever – there's pain, yes, but there's also protection and vindictive joy. Leah can see the appeal in that.

She can feel the pack waiting, just as they always do. Instead, she feels a shudder run through her as she tries to change her habit, and instead keeps her thoughts blank.

It doesn't give her any kind of satisfaction, the way she thought it would. She almost slips back, before she hears Jacob's angry thoughts – _just do it already, and spare us the fucking suspense._ There is almost a trill of agreement.

Indignant, she is more determined than ever to hold her ground, if only to be contrarian and prove them wrong.


End file.
